In late May, Nigeria's main political parties - the All Progressives Congress (APC), currently in government, and the People's Democratic Party (PDP), in opposition - chose their presidential candidates for elections February 2023 generals. One of the two will be the one who will become president next year.
To expect the ruling political class in Nigeria to give the country a little thought would be too much to ask.
But we have a duty to ask, not because we think they are willing to change anything or have the ability to do so, but because the Nigerian egg, figuratively speaking, is about to hatch, according to Tim Akano.
Our enlightened self-interest demands that we not force that break from the outside.
Two tragic events, among many others, that have occurred in the last month ‒the beheading of a military couple and the immolation of Deborah Samuel‒, added to the silent indifference of those whose constitutional duty is to protect life and property, as well as to maintain law and order, and of those lining up to replace them, are a stark reminder that even in the best of cases, the outcome of 2023 will not scratch the surface of the existential crisis facing Nigeria, nor will it .
It is unfortunate that Nigerians have to endure these tragedies, which have become a regular feature of our national existence.
Of course, nothing can justify the reprehensible practice of a country abusing its citizens.
When this happens, it calls into question the foundations and future of that nation, and shows how imperfect it is.
Therefore, one wonders why the political class has its sights set exclusively on 2023 and why those who aspire to lead the country do not take a position on this crucial issue.
Their attitude indicates not only how unprepared they are, but also their lack of sincerity and the superficiality of their ideas;
They have not formed an image of the kind of country they want to lead, nor do they have faith in it.
Faith in Nigeria – despite our motto being “unity and faith, peace and progress” – is a rare commodity in our political class.
Whenever I discuss our struggles as a country with younger compatriots, I like to reference a 2004 essay titled
Nigeria's Road to Greatness: Between Exceptionalism and Typicalism.
, by Ali Mazrui, one of Africa's leading political scientists.
In it, Mazrui made the following memorable observation on the occasion of the 90th anniversary of unification: "There are indeed certain attributes that make Nigeria strikingly unique in Africa and distinguish it in its configuration from all other countries on the continent."
Briefly, these attributes include its size, its human and natural resources, and of course, what appears to be a balance of power in its geopolitical and religious makeup.
Nigeria is not like any other country;
no other country is like Nigeria.
So why hasn't this timely exceptionality worked for her?
Perhaps the answer lies in its typicality.
“Maybe some of its particular ups and downs are typical of the entire continent,” said Nigeria's Mazrui.
“Understanding Nigeria is understanding this dialectic between its exceptionality in the African configuration and its typicality as a mirror of the continent... Nigeria is typically African, also because of the swings between tyranny (excessive government) and anarchy (government deficit) .
When it is governed by the military, it tends towards tyranny (excessive government);
when under civil administration, it tends to anarchy (government deficit).”
I will expand on Mazrui's thesis to claim that there is something baleful about the typicality of Nigeria that forms the substratum of mutual fear and hatred and explains the current anarchy.
The idea of Nigeria is based on conquest ‒conquest of people and resources‒, and has been sustained by new forms of domination and oppression.
For too long we have refused to face this threatening typicality.
I don't know how much longer we can ignore it.
We seem to have reached the crossroads of what political scientists call anocracy, a state that is neither autocratic nor democratic, and a dangerous place for a country.
Each tragedy reinforces the need to step back and offer an adequate response to the essential question of our nationhood, which has its origins more than six decades ago.
From terrorism to banditry, to countless sub-national, ethnic, political, religious, cultural and environmental scuffles, we have reached the “Gate of No Return”, that infamous point through which millions of Africans were forcibly shipped on slave ships bound for the New World.
What do these social and political phenomena tell us about our country?
We are told that Nigeria is a hotbed of pent-up rage fueled by blatant injustice, and that in order to hold it together we must heed the roar of the orchestra of minorities (whether ethnic, political, economic, religious or social), for taking borrowed the title from Chigozie Obioma's acclaimed novel.
Perhaps 2023 will provide us with a unique opportunity to revisit the controversial issues of belonging, inclusivity, equality, and justice that largely fuel discontent and unrest across the country.
One of the most profound statements of a Nigerian politician in this regard is the one attributed to Bola Ige, governor of the state of Oyo in the Second Republic and Minister of Mines and Energy, and then of Justice, during the Fourth Republic, who was assassinated ( serving as a minister) on December 23, 2001. According to Ige, “there are two basic questions that must be answered by all Nigerians.
The first is if we want to remain a single country;
the second, if the answer is yes, is under what conditions”.
In short, we must renegotiate Nigeria through a new constitution that recreates the country in the image of 21st century Nigerians.
That process is not a dangerous formula.
In fact, it could lead to the breakdown of Nigeria as we know it today.
But the most important thing is that the collapse would not cost the blood of millions of citizens.
The experiment of building a nation is hard, but rewarding, at least for those who are sincerely committed to the process.
We must renegotiate Nigeria through a new constitution that recreates the country in the image of 21st century Nigerians
Whether it is about sharing power, upholding secularism or religious plurality, protecting minorities, or any other issue, we must invariably adhere to the default position that Nigeria is a country made up of diverse nationalities with religious and socio-cultural, negotiated as a federation at the time of its independence in 1960.
Every decision we make should broadly reflect this diversity.
Otherwise it would bring disaster.
The central issue of the 1999 transition was a return to civilian rule.
The central issue in 2015, when the current monstrosity came to power, was the prospect of a transition from one party to another after 16 years of misrule by the PDP.
It seems that we have come full circle.
The central issue in 2023 will be (re)negotiating the unity of Nigeria.
Let's forget all the talk about solving economic problems, GDP and fighting insecurity.
Without a country we can do nothing.
Let us not repeat the mistakes of our tragic past.
We should not wait until we are at the precipice to sit down at the negotiating table.
So when you hear the ruling class utter hollow words like “Nigeria's unity is non-negotiable”, it is important to ask them what is the nature and purpose of that “unity”.
Nigerian unity is not a problem.
The challenge is its nature and its purpose.
Is it a unity based on trust, equality and respect, or conditioned by old disdainful beliefs of conquest and domination?
As 2023 approaches, the political establishment is running around like headless chickens, proclaiming that they have the magic wand to “fix Nigeria”.
Their management philosophy and their vision of the Nigerian crisis, which is a foundational crisis, tell us that they are in it for what they can get.
My advice is that as a country we should not be afraid to take the road less travelled.
To paraphrase the famous quote about fear from the first inaugural address of Franklin Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States, the only thing to be afraid of is fear itself, the irrational and unwarranted fear that paralyzes urgent efforts to consolidate the unity of Nigeria.
Chido Onumah
is the author, among other works, of We Are All Biafrans.